


Meaning in Silence

by Witty_Whit



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Dark Mark, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Canonical Character(s), Prefects' Bathroom, Slytherins, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witty_Whit/pseuds/Witty_Whit





	Meaning in Silence

Hearing the door to the Prefects' Bathroom open, Pansy quickly wrapped a towel around herself. She was on the other side of a dressing screen, but one could never be too careful. How unfortunate - there was usually no one else around after 9 o'clock, and Pansy usually had the whole bathroom to herself.

Pansy stuck her head around the screen to see who had come in. The pale blond figure was facing away from her, but Pansy had no doubts as to who it was. "Hey, Draco," she called out quietly to not frighten him.

Draco had been in the middle of taking off his sweater, but he turned at the sound of her voice, hastily pushing his sleeves down. He didn't smile (he never smiled anymore) as he responded, "Good evening, Pansy. You're here late."

Pansy disappeared back behind the dressing screen, and resumed putting her clean clothes on as she answered, "I'm always here about this time. You must come in after me."

She could hear clothes rustling and water rushing into the large tub. "I suppose so."

"How was your day?"

"Fine."

Pansy sighed. Conversations with Draco had become so stilted of late. He was always "fine" and polite and boring. Dressed, she stepped out from behind the screen and headed to the sinks and mirrors. Studiously, she kept her eyes away from Draco, who had sunk deep into the foam and was watching her warily.

At the mirror, she pulled a comb through her black hair careful to avoid tangling the strands that now hung a few inches below her chin. Her back was to Draco, and she could now hear him moving cautiously behind her. Cautious. That was the perfect word to describe Draco nowadays. Everything he did was careful and made to draw no attention to himself. He was a different man than the boy she had once been in love with.

Smirking to herself in the mirror, Pansy remembered their fifth year when they both became prefects. They'd hardly been able to keep their hands off each other in their fancy new bathroom. In fact, they'd gotten reprimanded multiple times by older students.

But now, Pansy was purposefully avoiding looking at Draco who was trying not to be obvious about hiding from her view. She once thought that nothing in life would matter if she didn't marry him, but now she couldn't remember why. Things had changed so drastically.

"Do you mind?"

Pansy didn't bother glancing over her shoulder; she knew what Draco meant. She turned away from both the mirrors and the tub, and listened to Draco's wet feet slopping across the floor as he went behind the screen to dry himself off.

Smiling ruefully to herself, Pansy grabbed a towel out of the laundry bin and, after dropping it on the floor, mopped up the puddles with her foot. At least he still had the bad habits of a man. Returning to the mirror, she quickly resumed her nightly beauty regimen. Finishing before Draco came out, she sat on a chair to wait for him.

In a few moments she heard, "Pansy? You still there?"

"Yes, Draco."

He didn't say anything more, but stepped tentatively out from behind the screen. He was dressed in grey flannel pants and white, shirt-sleeved shirt. His towel was laid over his right arm, covering his entire forearm. He didn't look at her as he strode to the mirror, but said, "I only grabbed a t-shirt."

"I don't mind, Draco. It's nothing I haven't seen before." Draco didn't respond. Of course, she knew he wasn't speaking about his bare arms, but instead the skull and snake tattoo that marked his right one. The Dark Mark. Even a year ago, he would have showed it proudly to her and all his other friends, but now, he was (if not ashamed or fearful) cautious. Now he knew the demands and consequences of following the Dark Lord. Pansy rubbed her own arm, subconsciously; she had been so very close to getting one of her own. She might still have to one day.

At the mirror, Draco rubbed a hand through his pale hair. Leaving it mussed (how she preferred it) he walked over to Pansy and dropped down on the chair next to her, towel still in place around his arm.

Neither of said anything as Pansy grabbed a contraband bottle of Firewhiskey and two paper cups. She poured two cupful and handed Draco his. They sat there in silence and drank.

After they finished, Draco sat up, ready to leave, but Pansy stopped him. "May I see it?"

His grey eyes met hers for a few seconds before he nodded. Slowly and without meeting her eyes again, he pulled the towel off. The black ink of the Dark Mark stood out sharply against his pale skin. Leaning forward, Pansy traced it gently with the tip of her finger. Without looking at him, Pansy whispered, "No matter whose mark you're branded with, you're still your own man, Draco."

Draco stiffened, and then rose quickly. He wrapped the towel back around his arm as he strode quickly to the door. But there he paused, and without looking back, he murmured, "Thanks, Pansy... for cleaning up my mess."

"You're welcome, Draco." Pansy said to the empty room after he left."


End file.
